


wool over the eyes

by bukkunmoonsin (bukkunkun)



Series: The X-Men AU No One Asked For [15]
Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Angst, Angst and Feels, Drabble, I'm Sorry, I'm so sorry, Introspection, M/M, Tragic Romance, you will need to have read the whole ass x-men au to understand this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 23:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15959666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunmoonsin
Summary: Like pulling wool over his eyes, Joven thought. So willingly, so eagerly.Perhaps now he could understand why thieves and liars loved sinning so much.





	wool over the eyes

**Author's Note:**

> KICKS MY OWN FUCKING ASS WHAT IS THIS. WHAT!!! IS THIS BABY WHAT!!! IS YOU DOIN!!!! i wrote this in 30 minutes i hate you all why am i suddenly so fast at writing i ended up running dry for kh only to realise that i just needed a break and this was it!?!?!?!?!?? ARE YO U KIDDING ME EE E 
> 
> anyway features my lunasona for like one (1) sentence because i've stopped giving a fuck, hello fandom, i hope you will all still have me because im a useless bipolar bisexual bilingual who needs to calm down properly instead of overreacting to everything
> 
> don't show this to jerrold or the cast or i am going to fucking kermit sudoku and stop writing completely am i clear thank u
> 
> unbeta'd kasi nakakahiya sa beta ko.

“You’re _Mapalad_ too, aren’t you?” Vicente asked innocuously that warm, sunny afternoon, and Joven turned to look at him, head cocked. Smiling kindly, the colonel pushed Joven’s book down onto his lap and shut it gently.

“I-I don’t know what you mean by that.” Joven mumbled, “My writing hand got stabbed in a fencing accident, but I’m a journalist. I won’t be able to write anytime soon, so I’m far from being the luckiest person around—”

“No, _Mapalad._ ” Vicente chuckled. “You’re nervous.”

Joven swallowed down his heart lodged in his throat. “Wh-what—”

“I’m _Mapalad_ too.” He explained kindly, pressing a hand to his heart. “I can feel what you’re feeling, and you’re nervous. It’s okay, Joven, you’re among brethren here.”

Brethren, he said. Joven deflated.

Luna and his camp were his brethren too.

Vicente’s hand, reaching for Joven’s on his book, paused, and he drew back.

“Now you’re sad.” He said, and Joven turned to look at him. “I’m sorry, did I… say something?”

“No, it’s… fine.” He shook his head. “Yes, I am. _Mapalad,_ I mean.”

Vicente’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he paid it no heed.

“What can you do?” He asked, as ahead of them, Julian’s laughter rang through the shimmering heat of the air. Joven jumped slightly, and finally, Vicente rested his hand on top of Joven’s wrist. “Relax. Calm down.”

Like a bucket of water was poured over him, Joven felt his worries melt away. His eyes widened, and he turned to look at Vicente, who smiled at him sheepishly.

“That’s what _I_ can do.” He shrugged. “I can feel what people are feeling, help them manage themselves, sort out their feelings.”

He left out the part where he had been doing the same thing he did to Joven to Gregorio for _years_ after they met. Until now.

_Especially now._

“That’s… amazing.” Joven breathed, and Vicente laughed sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Mine for yours.” He said. “What can you do?”

“I…” Joven hesitated for a moment, and continued. “I can’t control it very well.”

“It’s the same with everyone.” Vicente winked at him. “C’mon, now I’m _really_ curious about it!”

Joven blushed, and nodded sheepishly. He looked around their little carriage—he and Vicente were sitting in front of a few crates, and behind them was enough space to fit a person.

He tried not to think about the little boy that sat there, tied up and breathing shakily. The little _Mapalad_ hydrokinetic boy who lost his brothers in one fell swoop, the _child_ who had no one else to turn to.

He was right in shaking Vicente’s hand with his left. That part wasn’t ever going to change.

“I, um, I can…” he took a deep breath, and concentrated. He barely registered Vicente’s gasp of surprise as he phased through his seat, through the crates, until he ended up in Angel’s old spot, panting slightly.

Oh, Angel. He could only pray he was safe.

“ _That’s_ … amazing!” Vicente lit up, clapping brightly, and only then did Joven realise that the Del Pilars—both of them—were also looking at them. Julian had a little impressed smirk on his lips, one usually reserved for the ladies he tried to hit up—and subsequently fail with, and Gregorio had a rather placid smile on his face.

Joven didn’t like that smile—no, he found himself rather hating it.

Like somehow, he just always knew. Had he actually noticed him, in the time he was with Luna’s camp?

Joven’s stomach turned, nervous, skittish.

And he couldn’t hide these feelings of unease, either. Vicente, though not the telepath he knew of Mabini, could see right through him anyway.

Perhaps it was unwise, after all, to come with Del Pilar on this long, arduous journey.

“Oh don’t be nervous!” Vicente waved his hand. Ah, at least a pair of curtains blocked his windows to his soul. “That was amazing, come on over back here!”

Joven nodded, and decided to take the normal way back, crawling over the crates to sit heavily next to Vicente again, and the carriage lurched slightly over a bump in the road. Joven tumbled over, letting out a small shout, and Vicente caught him quickly, pulling him close until Joven was suddenly sprawled over his body.

All his trepidation melted away to give way to embarrassment, and his cheeks flushed red. Vicente’s lips were curled up in a disbelieving, amazed grin, and Joven tried not to think about what could that have meant.

The lingering stares, the touches, the smiles—

He’d seen them before, on Rusca, when he was talking about Gregorio. On Luna, through his mustache, talking about Isabel.

Manuel, about his Luisa. Paco and Juliana.

Ever since he left Luna’s camp—was _forcefully parted from it,_ really—he had not been blind. He would not be blinded, not by the smoke from his burning heart, not by his feelings taking hold of him, to enslave him and blindfold him.

He knew what this was. He knew where this was going.

He didn’t _like it,_ taking hands stained by the blood of his friends, but as Vicente helped him sit up again, he let the older man lean him against his side, and watched Julian snicker into his fist to a wan Gregorio, still looking at him surreptitiously over his shoulder.

This was a dangerous game he was playing, he knew.

_If anyone of you falls into serious danger, take a moment to calm down, take a deep breath—_

Manuel’s words echoed in his head, not to haunt him, but to ground him. He took a deep, shaky breath, and let out an equally heavy sigh, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

_And remember that our lives are cheap._

Life was cheap, and Joven knew he wouldn’t be going down without a fight.

“Colonel?” He asked softly, and Vicente hummed.

After all, if the people in the government could do it, why not he, too?

“Thanks, for staying with me.”

Vicente’s smile was so _warm,_ and Joven hated having put it there.

“You’re welcome.” He said, “It’s my duty, after all.”

Like pulling wool over his eyes, Joven thought. So willingly, so eagerly.

Perhaps now he could understand why thieves and liars loved sinning so much.

**Author's Note:**

> ulul ang gwapo ni paulo sa movie naiinis ako


End file.
